


The skies above are starless

by poptartypops



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akiren has more issues than Akechi, Alternate Universe - No Metaverse (Persona 5), Alternative Universe - Yakuza, Canon-Typical Violence, Growing Up Together, Happy Ending, M/M, No beta dead like shido, Purposely vague AU, Unresolved Sexual Tension, alternative universe - no powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:40:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25308388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poptartypops/pseuds/poptartypops
Summary: Akira blinked and paused his sweeping, “You’re really taking this student council president thing seriously.”“Stop being difficult.”Akria shrugged and resumed his chores, “Stop being nosy.”“Stop being an fucking asshole.”
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 12
Kudos: 164





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started as an honest attempt to write a piece for #SoftGoroWeek2020. And really all I wanted was AkiRen calling Akechi “senpai”, and making out. Alas, this kinda ran away with me. But thank you to those who supported this wip on discord. I’m really excited to be engaging in fandom again after so long. 
> 
> I love these bois so much!!!

At ten years old, Akechi’s whole world was his mother and the four corners of their apartment. His mother always had her hair up in a bun, tied neatly away from her face. A gentle smile would curve her lips as she taught him which soap was for the dishes, and which soap for the laundry. There was a small step stool that Akechi used for everything - hanging up the laundry, washing the dishes, keeping the laundry. He tried to clean the floors once, but his hands weren’t strong enough to wring the cloth well and the small expanse of their apartment ended up muddy with his footprints. When his mother came home from work, he smiled proudly at her, showing off his missing upper tooth that an unseen fairy turned into a coin.

His mother laughed, then wrung him a clean cloth, and Akechi eagerly continued cleaning while dinner was prepared. His favorite part of the night was when the chores were done and he would curl on the couch to watch the new episode of Featherman. 

“Mom, mom, one day I’m going to be just like Red Hawk!” He excitedly exclaimed, jumping to his feet just as the group delivered a deadly blow to an invading alien. His tiny body was thrumming with excitement, “I’ll always protect you!” He yelled the catch phrase in tandem with the TV show, showing his arms in a familiar action pose. 

His mom laughed behind him, “Honey I thought you wanted to be like Blue Swan?” 

He pondered on this seriously, taking a few careful moments before answering, “He’s super cool and super smart, but I think Red Hawke is  _ nicer _ .”

His mother’s arms came around his thin body and lifted him and in a hug, “But you know who’s the  _ best _ ?” Her grin was wide and blinding, “My growing baby boy who needs to go to sleep now!” Akechi wrapped his arms around her in return and let himself be dragged into the soft, worn covers of their bed. 

He always fell asleep looking forward to the next day. 

Some weekends his mother stayed overnight at work, Akechi knew that when she came home the next day, her face would have even more lines, her eyes a little less bright, and her smile wane. So he made sure to wake up early the next day and heat the food he set aside last night. He grabbed his secret stash of tea from the depths of the cupboard and brewed his mother a cup. Lunch was ready. Then he’d wait. 

Sometimes Akechi would fall asleep on their dining table while he waited for his mother to come home. Today, she was running even later than usual. He glanced at the small wall clock with it’s short finger pointing at 3. He stared as the long finger tick towards the next minute. This has been the longest she’s left him alone. 

A knock on the door. 

Akechi jumped and scrambled towards the door. She was home! The grocery probably had a long run. He could already see her in his hand, both hands full with heavy plastic bags that she couldn’t fish for her keys. 

“Mom! Welcome home -”

Two tall men in dark grey suits greeted him instead. 

* * *

The house of his mother’s second cousin was the third relative he was passed on to in under a year. They lived an hour away from Tokyo by train, the farthest Akechi has been from the city. His birthday passed silently. There was no more cake, no more wet kisses on his cheeks and warm hugs. On the morning of his eleventh birthday, he woke up early to sneak out of the house. His drunkard of an uncle usually came home just as the sun woke again, and his tiny closet room was a favorite spot to check. After a week of earning bruises, Akechi has learned better than to stay in bed. 

He snuck down to the nearby riverbank. It was cold, and he shivered despite wearing his favorite blue hoodie. Under that, his uniform was wrinkled, but at least it was clean today. He had a favorite spot on this riverbank. It was under a lone, old cherry blossom tree. There was a rock smoothed down by age, big enough of him to sit and stare at the gentle lapping of the river. He would stare at the water, just stare without thinking, waiting until the sun’s heat prickled his face, then he would silently make his way to school. 

At school, he learned that bright smiles drew friends. He had to be nice, so that the teachers would praise him. The girls liked it when he talked to them in a gentle tone. The boys liked it when he did well in sports. Being liked was a simple formula after all. 

And he liked  _ being liked _ . It meant people overlooked his mistakes, it meant they gave him nice things, it meant that they constantly looked for him - needed him. It was a powerful feeling. 

It was becoming an easy mask to wear. A good facade that hid the ugly reality he had to go home to. 

“Akechi-senpai,” a timid voice drew his gaze to the right. Standing outside his classroom was a small boy with a dark mop of hair. His eyes were obscured by glasses that repeatedly slid down his nose. 

Akechi didn’t have friends, he didn’t  _ make _ them. He had girls who admired him, and boys who envied him. 

And then there was  _ this _ boy. This small thin boy who one day had suddenly followed him around, holding his hand and staring at him with bright, hopeful eyes. 

Akechi hated this boy. 

“What do you want, Akira? I’m busy.” Akechi lied, stood up and made his way out of the classroom, walking past the shorter boy. 

Akira hurried to follow up. “Akechi-senpai, can I- can I walk home with you?” 

They lived three houses away from each other. The first time he met the younger boy, he was being pushed around by the older kids in the neighborhood. Akechi was no village hero, but he learned early on (from his uncle) that a well placed kick between the legs sent men of any size scurrying away. 

“No.” 

He could see Akira’s lower lip quiver at his rejection. But the younger boy huffed loudly and puffed out his chest in an attempt to gather courage and decided to follow behind him anyway. This was their daily routine, ever since Akechi saved this boy from a bunch of low life bullies. 

As they reached the intersection, a familiar shadow loomed over Akechi. He stopped walking abruptly, and he felt Akira hitting his back with a surprised gasp. “Well well, isn’t it cute little Goro,” a man with more piercings that flesh grinned down at him. 

“What do you want?” The yakuza’s grin only grew wider at his defiant tone. 

“Your uncle owes me a lot of money.”

Akechi’s jaw twitched, and he tightened his hand on his hand. “Then go ask him for it.” His voice was steady but he could feel his heart hammering against his chest. He could also feel Akira’s smaller hand clutching tightly on the back of his shirt. 

“Oh yes we did just that, guess what he said we can take as payment.” 

But just as the yakuza man was about to grab Akechi’s arm, Akira jumped out from behind him and clamped his jaw around the larger man’s wrist. 

“Fucking hell!!!!” The man shook Akira off and his little body flew and hit the ground. 

“Run!!!” He grabbed Akira’s arm and they crossed the intersection in a frenzy, ignoring the blaring horns of the incoming traffic. They ran into small alley streets, with blood thumping loudly in Akechi’s ear. His grip on Akira’s wrist was like steel. He didn’t look back, just ran and pulled the younger boy until they reached the riverbank. They finally stop to catch their breaths by his favorite cherry blossom tree. 

“Are you out of your mind?!” Akechi finally shouted at Akira when his lungs were finally filled with air again. “Why the hell would you do that?!” 

Akira, who has been so brave throughout the whole ordeal, finally burst out crying. His hands were shaking and he reached to cling on the sleeve of Akechi’s uniform. 

“Senpai, senpai,” he cried. His glasses were lost in their escape, and Akechi could clearly see his big black eyes rimmed with red. There was a speck of blood on Akira’s chin from when he bit the man earlier. 

Akechi’s anger disappeared as fast as it came, “Let’s go home,” he said tiredly. He moved to hold Akira's hand in his. He started to walk forward but Akira stayed rooted, crying in his spot. 

“Stop crying.” 

His words fell on deaf ears as always, and Akira continued to cry. 

“Why was he going to take senpai away?” Akira asked in between bouts of tears. “I don’t want them to take senpai away.” 

“You’re the one who’ll they take away because you’re stupid and you bit him.” 

Akira rubbed his eyes, hiccuping until his tears finally stopped. “I’ll protect senpai, I won’t let anything happen to you!” He exclaimed, with his dair hair full of sakura petals, snot dripping down his nose, and hands clammy from sweat. 

Akechi wondered why the words of a tiny ten year old was suddenly so comforting. 

“Come on, let’s go home.” His hand tightened around Akira’s smaller one. 

Akira nodded. As they walked home, with the air cooling around them, Akira dug something out of his pocket. “Senpai, this was what I wanted to give you today,” he pushed a small bar of Akechi’s favorite chocolate bar into Akechi’s pant pocket. “Let’s walk home together again tomorrow.” 

Akechi was very much conscious of the melting chocolate bar in his pocket, and the warm hand he was holding, “Fine.” 

Three weeks later, social services arrived and took Akechi away anyway. 

* * *

Everything was finally going as Akechi planned for his last year in high school. The life that he lived day by day like it was a chore was starting to mean  _ something _ . 

He was more popularly known as the  _ Prince _ these days. It was a bit cheesy in Akechi’s opinion, but he’s long ago learned that to be successful, it wasn’t  _ his _ opinion that mattered. 

The Prince was the perfect boy. He went to cram school and earned top marks in his mock exams. He was part of the tennis varsity in his high school, who although didn’t make it all the way to nationals, did decently within the region. He was every girl’s dream boyfriend, who knew all the trendy cafes, took amazing pictures for his instagram, and showed no favoritism among his fans. He was the reliable student council president. His recommendation letter would have sung him praises until it was hoarse. 

But sometimes he was  _ too _ reliable, and he ended up with teacher’s shit, like Kawakami’s new pet delinquent. 

The news has been buzzing throughout school for the past week. That the school has accepted a transfer student with a juvenile record, supposedly for assault. There was no shortage of wild rumours attempting to guess what kind of brute was arriving at their school in a few days. 

The short haired teacher sighed tiredly in front of him, “I don’t know why I always get shit like this,” she muttered under her breath. Although Akechi could hear her loud and clear. “Anyway, Akechi-kun, this new transfer student is arriving tomorrow. Please make sure he isn’t going to cause any trouble.” 

Akechi’s eye twitched at that, how the hell is he supposed to do that? Cuff this delinquent to himself?

Kawakami continued, “He has uh -  _ special circumstances _ \- but I’m sure that if anyone here is going to be a good influence to him, it would be you.”

His practiced smile curved the ends of his lips. He pretended (like everyone else) that he didn’t know the details of the ‘special circumstances’. 

“Please leave it to me sensei,” he said in his saccharine voice belying his annoyance. 

Kawakami handed him an envelope, “These are the documents he’ll need to fill up when he arrives. And his ID card. He’ll be in class 2C.” She sighed tiredly, and Akechi almost felt bad for her. 

Almost. 

“Alright, please leave it to me.” 

When Kawakami left, Akechi looked at the ID card,  _ ‘Amamiya Ren _ ’. There was no picture yet. Akechi shrugged and kept the envelope in one of the cabinets of the student council room. 

Just another errand to finish. 

* * *

Akechi blinked his eyes in disbelief at the boy standing in front of him. 

_ Amamiya Ren  _ stood in front of him with a familiar mop of dark hair falling over eyes obscured by large thick frames. It was the same thin and lanky build, except now he was taller than Akechi. He only looked capable of assaulting a five year old for candy, in Akechi’s opinion. 

There was a quiet recognition in Ren’s -no,  _ Akira’s- _ eyes, and Akechi knew his plan of pretending not to know him was already thwarted. 

“This is your student ID, and the student manual inside. Please read it by today,” Akechi doesn’t say to stay out of trouble, because it seemed a bit redundant, and he remembered having a good impression of this kid. Also, Akechi was nosy as hell.

“Aki - I mean,  _ Ren _ ,” his slip of tongue was deliberate. Akira stayed silent and looked straight into his eyes. The light in the student council room was dim, and so Akechi could clearly see Akira’s eyes without the distracting glint of the eyeglasses. 

Akira’s gaze was piercing, dark with secrets, heavy with quiet intimidation. He didn’t have piercings or inappropriately coloured hair, but there was definitely an unfriendly air around him. Then again not all delinquents change their names and their addresses, Akechi thought. And if he hasn’t been dealing with unsavory characters since he was eleven, then Akira’s gaze would have made him avert his gaze.

There was a quiet thrill that went up his spine when it was Akira who looked away, like an admission of defeat. 

“Long time no see, senpai,” his voice was flat, almost unfeeling, “I’d appreciate it if you‘d stick to my new name now, it’s less confusing for everyone.” 

Akira took the envelope from him, but blinked in surprise when Akechi didn’t let go. “That’s all the greeting I get?” He asked, “didn’t you used to follow me around everywhere before? I think you’d miss me a bit more.” 

“Didn’t you try to get rid of me all the time?” Akira tugged the envelope free from Akechi’s hand.

“Ah, so you’re one to hold grudges.” 

Akechi likened this situation to trying to coax a stray cat. Although why he wanted the stray cat to like him in the first place was something to think about another time. “Let’s start fresh then, I’m supposed to keep an eye on you.” He tipped his head a little to the left, in a way he knew others found endearing. 

“Then I guess it’s my turn to try to get rid of you.” Akira turned and left.

Akechi watched his retreating back curiously. 

It seemed the the child that clung to his hand was gone. 

* * *

“What a coincidence,” Akechi cheerily exclaimed as he entered the small side street cafe, “To be seeing each other even after classes.” He took his seat on the bar, and smiled brightly at the barista who did not look equally pleased. 

“What do you want?”

Akechi raised a brow, “Well for one, your customer service needs a lot of work.” His eyes shifted to look at the person coming out of the kitchen behind Akira -  _ Ren _ , he corrected himself - “Hello there sir, I don’t think you picked the best employee here.” 

Sojiro scratched the back of his head, “This is a favor from a friend,” he explained. “Ren, I told you to  _ smile _ .”

Akira gave him one fit for a horror house, and Sojiro sighed. “Whatever, just don’t scare away customers. I’ll be heading out first, I’ll leave closing up to you.” 

Akechi was the only customer they had the whole day, but Akira decided it was best to stay quiet. 

“I’ll have a cup of single-origin Ethiopian please,” Akechi watched Akira handle the espresso machine with practiced ease. “This isn’t your first day here.” 

Akira remained quiet. Akechi’s suspicions are confirmed when he sipped a perfectly brewed cup of coffee. “Passable,” the cup was half empty when he placed it back down. He twined his fingers together and rested his chin on top of them, eyes trained on Ren’s back as he washed dishes. 

“There is only 1 cup left to wash  _ Ren _ ,” Akechi said.

After very thoroughly washing the last one dirty cup, Akira finally faced Akechi again. He leaned against the sink, a good distance between him and Akechi, and wiped his hands on his apron. His exposed biceps flexed as he crossed his arms across his chest. The school uniform was just hiding how toned Akira’s body actually was. 

“What do you want? I’m busy.” 

“Ren, I think it’s safe to say I’m going to be your last customer for that day.” 

“Then you can finish your coffee and head home, senpai.” 

“I hope you don’t talk with all your customers  _ this _ way.”

Akechi watched as Akira fidgeted uncomfortable for a moment.  _ Good _ . “How long have you been in Tokyo -”

Leblanc’s door chimed in welcome as another man stepped in contrary to Akechi’s prediction. The newcomer was wearing a cap, a long green coat and a pair of cargo pants. He had a few days of uneven scruff on his face, with a stick of unlit cigarette between his lips. There was a hint of a tattoo peeking out of the man’s forearm where his sleeves were folded. Akechi was used to seeing these kinds of men when he was younger, dealing with his uncle’s debts. His back tensed almost instinctively, and he had to remind himself that those days were long gone, and that he was perfectly safe now. 

Except that he was in a small cafe in the dark backstreet of Yongen. His body would probably never be found if they dumped it in these alleys.

But the man quietly sat on the bar 2 seats away from Akechi, and ordered a cup of brewed coffee. Akira seemed unfazed as well, and prepared the coffee quietly. 

“Akechi-senpai,” it was the first time that Akira looked at him the whole evening, “I’ll be closing up soon, I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

The dismissal was obvious. From the corner of his eye, Akechi could see the other customer staring at him. Self-preservation won against curiosity. He nodded and picked up his bag, “I’ll see you tomorrow then,  _ Ren _ .” He could hear the older man start talking in a low rumbling voice when Akechi reached the door. 

The door closes behind him with the same soft chime. Akechi stared up at the sky. No stars could be seen, only endless rolling dark clouds. He spied a crack of lightning slicing across the dark expanse, followed by the soft growl of thunder. 

Right across Leblanc was a bathhouse with an empty bench by the entrance. It was dark on the street. No one would notice if he sat there for a while. 

He didn’t have to wait long, because after less than an hour, the man in the long coat left. His head was stopped down, and he walked away silently until Akechi couldn’t see him anymore. At least Akira was alive, he could see his shadow hunched over the tables as he cleaned. 

Akechi paused in consideration. What the fuck was he even doing? He stared at Akira’s figure as he put the bar stools up on the counter. This whole situation was quickly smelling of danger - danger that Akechi has successfully and painstakingly thwarted from his life. A man with a brand of a yakuza did not spend his evening sipping coffee at a cafe. Those kinds of men never made small talk with high school part-timers without an ulterior motive. 

There was definitely something more going on. Or maybe nothing was going on. 

Akechi pushed open Leblanc’s door and stepped back inside the cafe. The scent of coffee calmed him. The sight of Akira made him restless. 

“Sorry, we’re closed - ” Akira cut himself off in surprise. “You’re really nosy, senpai.”

“Cut the crap Akira, you’re supposed to be staying  _ out _ of trouble, not serve coffee to it.” Akechi pulled down a stool and sat. 

Akira blinked and paused his sweeping, “You’re really taking this student council president thing seriously.” 

“Stop being difficult.”

Akria shrugged and resumed his chores, “Stop being nosy.”

“Stop being an fucking  _ asshole _ .”

Akira surprised Akechi with a bark of laughter, “Oh  _ there _ it is, I’d let you know I learned to be rude from you.” 

Impatience was like a tick under Akechi’s skin, “Tell me about your sentence.” 

Akira turned his piercing dark eyes to him. He put his broom aside and stood in front of Akechi across the bar counter. Akechi could see his lashes from this distance, as well as the tendons of his arm. 

“Tell me about your parents,” Akira shot back. 

As expected, Akechi didn’t answer. But he didn’t avert his gaze away either. Their eyes remained locked into each other. Their breathing was even, in sync. 

Finally, after the silence seemed to stretch on forever, Akira moved away. He removed his apron and threw it under the counter. “And that is exactly how I feel about this topic.”  Akira then heaved a soft sigh, and walked towards the door, opening it wide, “Good night, Akechi-senpai.” 

There was nothing Akechi hated more than someone else telling him what to do. But he also knew that his impatience was doing him no favors at the moment. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,  _ Ren _ .” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not going to take your bullshit. You’re here at the arrival of Kaneshiro’s items, with Iwai heading the extraction. And you’re telling me you’re here for your goddamn sister when you are an only child.” 
> 
> “You have one minute Kurusu,” Akechi warned, “My unit is arriving as we speak, make your choice.”
> 
> Grey eyes were unwavering as they started back into his own, “You know I’m telling the truth.”

"I heard there’s a new transfer student in your school,” Makoto said as she entered the living room, with a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a thick book in the other. She sat across Akechi and peeked into his own opened textbook. It was the prep book she finished the previous weekend. 

Akechi hummed absent minded in response, “Well news travel fast.” 

“I only heard about it from sis,” Makoto shrugged and opened her book. She clicked on the end of her retractable pen twice, out of habit. “Sounded like a troublesome character. What’s he like?” She took a sip of coffee. 

“Cute.” 

Akechi grinned as Makoto sputtered ungracefully. She wiped her mouth with a napkin and gave him an unimpressed glare, “It was a serious question.” 

Akechi shrugged, a satisfied smile curving his lips. Goody two shoes foster sisters were no fun. “It was a serious answer.” 

Makoto rolled her eyes at him and decided it wasn’t worth continuing the conversation. 

“What did Sae-san say?” 

She ignored him. But after a stretch of silence, she noticed he was still looking expectantly at her. Makoto sighed, “Nothing much really,” she trailed off and watched Akechi’s face closely, “She was just notified about it because it seemed like this student was involved with Masayoshi Shido somehow.” 

Akechi’s face remained impassive as she spoke that name. He took a sip from his cold cup of coffee. The bitter taste of the instant brew was sharp on his tongue. “I see. And that’s related to his record?” he murmured. He flipped to the next page of his textbook. His pen tapped rhythmically against the sheet of loose paper to his right. 

Kurusu Akira - or rather, _Amamiya Ren_ \- had become the most intriguing puzzle from a vague childhood memory in just one night. 

Makoto shook her head, “I’m not clear with the details. You didn’t hear anything over at the police station?” 

Akechi stood and flipped his textbook close, “I’m heading there right now.” There was a hum of excitement in his veins. And he reminded himself to calm down, in all odds Ren was just another ill adjusted adolescent in the midst of rebellion. His connection with Shido was a mere coincidence. After all, what would a politician like him want with a sixteen year old nobody?

Maybe he’s another bastard child, Akechi thought darkly. He grabbed his satchel by the doorway and made his way to the train station. His mind turned into a whirlpool of brooding thoughts at the mention of Shido. He couldn’t stop himself from stewing over the dark years of his life, and imagining the scene where he runs a knife through Shido’s gut for all of it. He already deserved to be a fucking saint for being able to resist killing him until now. 

The precinct guards greeted him as he made his way into the building. He made his way to the elevator and into the sixth floor, where he guessed Nijima Sae would be. Just as he approached the conference room, he could already hear the heated voices of an ongoing debate. 

“If we can’t get solid evidence, then we will never tie him down!” The sharp authority of Sae’s voice was unmistakable. 

“Bringing down Kaneshiro would already be a big win for us. Shido would lose his biggest financial backer,” a man argued. 

“If we bring this case to court prematurely, Shido will escape us then we'd have to _start_ from scratch!”

A bang on the table, “And you mean to say we just let Kaneshiro go? The yakuza has been getting out of hand. If we let this go on, we’re going to lose the upper hand.” 

Akechi leaned against the wall by the door, listening intently. Another woman spoke, detailing the findings of their planted agents. “We’ll reconvene in forty eight hours to talk about our next move.” 

Chairs creaked, scratched loudly against the old grain of wood, and soon the officers started filing out of the conference room. No one spared Akechi a glance as they passed him. The frown lines on their faces were permanent fixtures. 

“Good afternoon, Sae-san,” Akechi greeted with a bright smile as he entered the room. Nijima Sae still sat at the end of the long table, shifting through paperwork. She spared him a glance and nodded back in greeting.

“I heard from the captain that you helped solve the embezzlement case,” the praise remained unspoken, but Akechi could hear it. He gloated, “It was nothing.” 

This time, Sae paused and took a long look at him. He was still standing by the doorway. “You’re here regarding Shido’s case?” 

“You know me best.” 

“The details are classified, Goro.” This was her attempt to parent. 

“And how is that case against Kaneshiro going?” He walked towards the table and peered at the documents in front of Sae. She made no move to stop him. 

“That is also classified. Get a badge and I’ll think about telling you.” 

Akechi laughed, “The rest of the police department can attest to how helpful I am, Sae-san. Why don’t we catch this criminal together?” 

His cajoling wasn’t going to work, he knew. He wasn’t allowed to know about this case because he was potentially involved in it - as the bastard son. But Sae doesn’t stop him riffling through the documents and pictures. But she watched him closely. And so he kept his expression passive, not letting his smile drop. He spotted a picture of a man with a familiar build and peered closer. The picture was a candid shot, with two men sitting on a park bench. There was nothing special about the picture. No moment of illicit actions caught on camera. Just two men in dark coats looking far away from the camera. 

“Is this someone we already know?” He kept his voice light, laced with just enough errant curiosity that Sae will indulge. 

Sae took the picture from his hand and looked at it for a moment, “One of Kaneshiro’s men,” she replied.

“Why a picture of him?” Akechi took the picture back and stared at it again. 

“That man was a senior member.”

“Was?” 

“Yakuza loyalties aren’t as steadfast as they used to be.” Sae took the picture and tucked it out of his reach. She looked him straight in the eyes, “You remember our agreement don’t you?” She doesn’t wait for him to answer, “Stay away from trouble.” 

Trouble meant his father, he knew. 

Akechi laughed, “Of course, Sae-san, I do also like to stay safe and cozy.” He put the picture back down on the table, “I’ll see you at dinner then, I still have some documents to pass downstairs.” 

He couldn’t suppress the dark tendril of excitement. It numbed his teeth. His suspicions were correct - a member of the yakuza. He had met that man in Leblanc the other night. 

* * *

“ _Amamiya-kun_ ,” Akechi stood by the classroom door of 2C just as the teacher dismissed them. He leaned against the doorframe, blazer crinkling as he crossed his arms across his chest, and he sent a bright, dazzling smile towards Akira. 

A few girls giggled excitedly at the sight of him. “Good afternoon, senpai!” 

Akira was seated at the corner nearest the window. He only looked up when Akechi called him, but there was no answering smile to the big grin Akechi threw at him. Akechi could hear the other students mumbling under their breaths as he made his way inside the classroom. He turned to the group of girls by the board, “I hope you’ve been making Amamiya-kun feel welcomed.” 

There was a knowing tone in his voice, and the faces of the girls turned pink. They murmured their agreement softly and turned away. Akechi stopped in front Akira’s desk, “How are you settling in?”

Akira tipped his head to the upwards, watching him with an unreadable expression. “I’m fine, thank you senpai.” 

“The teacher asked me to help you go over the lessons, I hope you didn’t have any other plans today.” 

There was no such request and they both knew it. 

“I wouldn’t want to - ”

Akechi cut him off, “I insist,” he showed his more endearing smile, “My company can’t be that bad. Let’s go.” 

He turned and headed out of the classroom without checking if Akira followed. But he could hear the measured footsteps behind him, and see the curious glances everyone else threw at them. They silently made their way up another flight of stairs towards the student council room. 

The room was dark and empty when they arrived. Akechi let Akira in, and stood just by the door as the other boy put his bag down on the table in the middle of the room. Akira’s uniform was ill-fitted. It was too wide around the shoulder, and the pants too long. He looked plain, and inconspicuous. Someone Akechi wouldn’t have spared another glance on if they had met under any other circumstance. 

“Somehow, _I’m_ the one who feels trapped with a criminal.” Akira broke the silence with a rueful smile. He crossed his arms and leaned against the table facing Akechi. The afternoon sunlight was bright behind him, streaming in slits between the window blinds. It casted his body in a dark, mysterious, enticing shroud. 

Akechi laughed, and stepped closer. There was an irrational urge to reach out and pluck the black rimmed glasses away from pale skin. But Akechi has always been good at not acting on impulse. Their eyes met without Akechi needing to tip his gaze upwards, even though Akira was about an inch taller than him.. “Don’t worry you’re perfectly safe with me.” 

Akira grimaced, “Oh, I have no doubts.”

He also doesn’t understand why the grin stays on his lips without prompting, “It was an honest question, the other day, when I asked how you were doing.” 

“This feels oddly like an interrogation.” 

“Why don’t you quickly finish your homework and I’ll treat you to dinner,” Akechi’s eyes glinted in the dim room, “Then it’ll feel more like friendship.” 

“A bribe, you mean.” But Akira obediently moved away and pulled out his workbook. It was a welcomed distraction to keep his hands busy. 

If sharks grinned, that would have been what Akechi looked like. You’re being too suspicious, what do I need to bribe you for?” 

Akira didn’t answer and continued to work. Akechi watched him for a few minutes, “That’s wrong. Redo the question.” His voice was calm, almost cajoling, but the authoritative tone was unmistakable. 

Akira glared at him. His grey eyes were like newly sharpened knife points, tempered by a dance of humor - _challenging_. Akechi thought he wouldn’t listen, but Akira eventually erased his answer. He tapped the end of his pencil against the blank sheet of paper for a few moments, considering. 

Akechi stood and circled towards him. There was an unfamiliar hum of electricity running under his skin as he leaned one palm flat on the table beside Akira’s arm. He bent forward until his face could see the strands of hair curling against the shell of Akira’s ear. “This is where you went wrong,” he murmured and pointed to the long equation. 

The other boy shifted his head an inch away. The ends of his ears would have been visibly pinker if the room was brighter. Akechi only stepped away when the math problem was solved to his liking, “Alright then, good enough. Time for dinner.” His finger flitted against the shell of Akira’s ear, with the barest pressure that Akira might as well have imagined it. 

They took the train to Kichijou. Akechi doesn’t remember the last time he hung out with someone his age. Ever since he started living with Nijima Sae - or rather, ever since she found him - he had spent most of his time at the precinct. They stopped in front of a dainty new cafe, with european styled exterior and blooming hedges leading up to the entrance. There was a huge blackboard drawing their signature item by the door. 

“Pancakes…” 

Akechi looked unapologetic, “Food is food.” They entered the cafe and took a booth by the window. Akechi didn’t glance at the menu and ordered for both of them. He smiled in assurance at Akira’s skeptic gaze and promised, “You’ll like it. Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two about customer service.”

“I can’t decide if you’re being nice to me, or insulting me.” There was a rueful, sardonic tone in Akira’s baritone voice that Akechi wanted to tickle out. The sunlight that gentle streamed in from the glass window casted a warm diffused glow over Akira’s pale skin. 

“Consider it a special talent.”

He is rewarded by a small huff of laughter and Akechi found himself wishing he could spout more witty nonsense. 

Thankfully the waitress came back before Akechi could let loose his tongue. A pair of fluffy souffle pancakes was served. One topped with strawberries and the other with mangoes. There was a small round scoop of whipped butter on top of two cloudlike layers of pastry. Akechi snapped a photo. He angled it in a way that Akira’s hands on the table were captured by the frame - alluding to company, but not revealing who. Their coffee arrived soon after, two cups of steaming liquid in victorian styled ceramics. 

“Your coffee is surprisingly better,” Akechi complimented after taking a sip. Eyes watched closely as Akira lifted the cup to his lips. He took a sip but didn’t comment. 

“That man in Leblanc the other night, you knew him?” 

It was a question they both knew the answer to. “So this _is_ an interrogation,” Akira didn’t touch the pancakes, but took another sip of coffee. “You’re not trying hard enough to butter me up.” His shoulder visibly relaxed, “Besides, I’ve already gone over everything I know with the police,” he paused and held his eyes for a moment, before looking away. 

“And yet you’re still in contact with the yakuza,” Akechi propped his chin on his hands. “Is that something they also know? Munehisa Iwai isn’t exactly a friendly neighbor.” 

Kaneshiro’s man. Shido’s man. Which makes Akira what exactly? 

He found himself pleasantly surprised when Akira remained unperturbed at the revelation. It could only mean that he anticipated Akechi finding out, and it left him with more questions than answers. Akira still had the upper hand.

“I’m not one of them, if that’s what you want to know.” 

Akechi shook his head, “Of course not, not after your sentence. Even if you were, they’d cut ties by now.” He noticed that Akira had a habit of pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose when he was thinking. “It could only mean you must be someone important. That a man of Munehisa Iwai’s status would continue to associate with you.” 

“You’re making a whole lot of assumptions about me, Akechi-senpai.” 

He didn’t know if that was disappointment colouring his voice, but there was a rue smile on the dark haired boy’s lips. “Feel free to correct me then, Ren. I do plan to get to know you very well.” 

Akira laughed. It was a fleeting sound, and for a moment his grin was wider. The mirth on his face made Akechi want to clutch his chest. The irrationality threatened to make his head spin. 

“You suck at making friends, _senpai_.” 

Was that what he wanted with this unruly haired boy with a sentence? This misfit who was like a stark, bright comet slowly shaking every wall he’s built for his life. There was a creeping sense of fondness that crawled up the back of Akechi’s throat. Akira echoed his posture, long fingers intertwined in front of him, the tip of his chin resting on top. His shoulders leaned forward, as if to whisper a secret. Akechi felt his breath hitch. Behind the glasses, Akira’s lashes were thick and dark, and his eyes blazed with _something_ that made Akechi’s jaw twitch. A challenge? A deadly conviction that would threaten to engulf him if he dared And when he spoke, Akechi could feel his gut twist. There was a respectable distance between them, but he felt as if the words were whispered right in his ear. 

“ _Have you ever felt that kind of desperation of wanting something at all cost?_ ” 

He felt a shiver starting down his spine. His next inhale was a deliberate pulling of air between his teeth and feeling his lungs expand. It was a heady intoxication, this unnamable bond that seemed to forge between them out of thin air. He kept their eyes locked, his next words measured and deliberate, meeting the rising challenge. But the smile widening his lips was unbidden. 

“Well then _Amamiya-kun_ , don’t you think it was fate that we met again?” 

* * *

The rest of the week was a blur of work, work, and work. The long hours interspersed with quiet nights of sitting on the second stool of Leblanc’s counter, with a warm cup . There was a fragile trust forming between them, Akechi could tell. Paper thin as butterfly wings. He hasn’t thought too deeply about the sense of solace that has started to bury in his chest. 

Especially not tonight.

In Akechi’s time working in the police department, he has gained the favor of the younger captains. Quick wit and his exceptional IQ warranted him enough attention from more liberal members of the force. And so slowly, he had made his own network free of Sae’s influence, gaining him a wealth of information (and opportunity) that he wouldn’t have access to otherwise. 

Tonight was a golden example. Had he allowed himself to remain cosseted by the fences Sae put up, he would be home tonight with a book in bed. Instead, he was sitting behind screens, eyes darting between multiple footages of CCTV cameras. The buzz of adrenaline in his blood was welcomed, loud and addicting. He would murmur a command, and his chess pieces on the ground moved. 

He ran his tongue behind his teeth. The plan was simple: seize Kaneshiro’s shipment. Catching the yakuza boss red handed was his first ticket to taking Shido down. He rubbed a hand across his nape to loosen the tension. “Hawkes, keep your position steady,” he said into the communicator. His mind was peacefully blank as they waited, eyes trained on multiple monitors. The ship containing Kaneshiro’s smuggled weapons had already docked, all they had to do was wait for the perfect moment… 

_BOOM!!!!_

The sudden explosion from the warehouse right across the docked ship interfered with the frequency of the communicators. Akechi grabbed his headphones and threw it to one side as a high pitched static threatened to pierce his eardrums. He cursed under his breath, then hurriedly spoke into the microphone, “Hawkes, what happened?” He asked the ground team.

For a moment all that came back was static and garbled replies that no one could understand. Akechi’s team gave each other wary glances. “Sir we should - ”

“Akechi-san!” The team leader’s voice crackled through, “The explosion came from warehouse 19. We might have been compromised.” 

“Stay on track. Even if they know we’re here, it still doesn’t change the fact that we have the upperhand.” 

“Yes sir!” 

Akechi watched as the unit surrounded the perimeter of the said warehouse in a practiced formation. At the corner of his eye, he saw a flicker of movement from a lone camera monitoring warehouse 12. It was a lone figure flitting through the shadows almost imperceptibly. Akechi squinted, was that also a cat?

“Yoshida-san, please take over,” Akechi signalled to his colleague, “After ten minutes, instruct the Swan team to head over to warehouse 12.” He tapped the screen of the said warehouse. It was at the far end of the shipyard, away from the current firefight.

“Akechi-san it might be dangerous going by yourself.” 

He shook his head, “No, this is just a gut feel. It might be nothing. Continue with the plan.” He reached into his pocket and his hands circled around the cold metal of his pistol. He left the comforts of his intelligence set up and made his way to warehouse 12. The night was eerily silent. Akechi kept to the shadows, dashing across the tall rows of crates and trucks with practiced ease. Although now he was chasing criminals instead of running away from them. He hid behind a large container van parked a few feet from the entrance of warehouse 12. 

The warehouse had the characteristic gray paved walls and dark tiled roof. He could hear the sounds of waves crashing against the dock. His eyes strained against the darkness, willing them to pick up every small rustling movement around him. A faint sound of metal clanging against each other drew his eyes upwards. And that was when he saw the faint gleam of the grappling hook looping around the pipes edging the roof of the warehouse. 

“Bingo,” Akechi whispered to himself. His legs moved then. He made his way into the warehouse through the side door and climbed the narrow ladder to the second floor. The warehouse was thick with dust, and the air heavy with uncertainty. He gripped tighter around the gun and moved forward. It only took another few minutes until he saw another flash of movement in the darkness. 

Outside, thunder rumbled overhead. Soon flashes of lightning brightened the night sky in quick glimpses. But it was enough for Akechi to see the shadowy figures working their way to unlock the large container vessel. As Akechi neared, he could make out two figures - one of a man in a long black coat, and the other a woman with long hair wearing a similar outfit. Their faces were masked. 

Akechi cocked the barrel of his gun to their direction, but just as he was about to pull the trigger, the taller figure turned and caught his eye. 

“Stay down!” He said, pushing his companion aside and heading straight at where Akechi stood with dizzying speed. 

Akechi fired his gun at the split second. The bullet grazed his opponent’s shoulder but otherwise whizzed past him. He cursed, taking a step back to parry the dagger that came close to slicing him across the face. It nicked the side of neck, but he barely felt the pain in the haze of adrenaline. Akechi aimed his gun again, a blanket of cold concentration steadying his fingers - this time he wouldn’t miss. 

“Violet, stay on mission,” the masked man shouted to his companion. But his eyes stayed on Akechi, his movements were swift and merciless, delivering blow by blow sharp stabs on his short dagger. Akechi parried with the body of his gun, but he knew he couldn’t keep this up. He wouldn’t win in this kind of combat. 

“But Joker, if _he’s_ here, then that means the police won’t be far behind.” 

Akechi parried to his right, then moved to sidestep his opponent to get behind him. The girl was watching them, torn between finishing opening the locks behind her and helping her teammate. 

“Keep your eyes on me,” the taller man - _Joker_ \- growled at Akechi. He landed a kick that sent Akechi flying across the room. 

“ _Faster_ , Violet,” impatience bled at every word, “Find where they’re hiding Navi, and _leave_.”

The girl hesisted only for another moment before she turned back and disappeared from the periphery of Akechi’s sight. He coughed as he sat up, “Who are you?” The dark haired man was making his way towards him.

“You shouldn’t have come,” the masked man said. His voice was a low soothing baritone. 

“Don’t tell me what to do.” He felt around the ground, but his gun was nowhere to be found. 

The dark haired man was just a step away from him, There was an air of confidence around him that was suffocating. He bent one knee, until their eyes were level. “What are you doing here tonight Akechi Goro?” 

“That’s what I’d like you to answer,” Akechi replied scathingly. “Who is Navi?” He had to keep this man talking. Just three more minutes and his backup was going to arrive. His right hand shot up to swipe the mask away. But this man was quicker, reading his moves and moving his head back so that Akechi only swiped air. 

“Are you working for Shido?” 

The question seemed to surprise the other man. And that was the only opening he needed. Akechi launched his weight towards him, one hand swiping away the offending mask, and the other grappling the dagger loose. They fall in a mess of limbs, in an almost childish scramble for the single weapon. In their struggle, Akechi ended up taking hold of the blunt end of the weapon. He pressed the other man down against the floor, legs pinning him in place, with the sharp end pressed against his neck.

His chest was heaving to catch his breath when he finally saw what the mask revealed. 

Kurusu Akira.

More pieces to a puzzle Akechi felt himself become more and more entangled with.

“Well, look who we have here,” he pressed the knife deeper against the pale neck, drawing a line of blood. “You’re quite fond of jail it seems, Kurusu Akira.” 

It was quite unnerving that Akira kept staring at him with those unwavering dark grey eyes, as if it was Akechi who he had at knife point. 

“You’re not smuggling the weapons. What are you doing here?” He gripped the dagger tighter. 

“Kaneshiro has my sister.” It was the first admission that Akira has given him. And the sudden force of honesty when he was expecting none was a dose of lightning. It was spoken so plainly that Akechi didn’t have time to doubt the statement. 

“I’m not going to take your bullshit. You’re here at the arrival of Kaneshiro’s items, with Iwai heading the extraction. And you’re telling me you’re here for your goddamn sister when you are an only child.” 

“You have one minute Kurusu,” Akechi warned, “My unit is arriving as we speak, make your choice.”

Grey eyes were unwavering as they started back into his own, “You know I’m telling the truth.”

They could hear footsteps approaching. “Time’s up.”

But instead of letting themselves be found, Akechi stood and grabbed his wrist. He snapped a handcuff over their wrists and tugged Akira sharply out to the dark side street. They run into a small alley and jump up the fire escape, making their way to the roof. Their feet barely made a sound as they ran up the narrow steps. Akechi stopped and stood at the edge of the landing, looking at the incoming police force below. Wind blew across his hair. Akira remained in the shadow, hands tight on the metal railing. Akechi realized that Akira had just been bluffing, taking a gamble on whether or not Akechi would believe him. 

It was starting to become unclear which of them was the fool. 

His mind raced. Akechi Goro was a man of reason, a man of justice. But most of all, Akechi Goro was a selfish man. There was no reason to help Kurusu, and a myriad to catch him, starting with the fact that he was _obviously_ a criminal. His fist banged against the console table, and he cursed his indecision. Unbidden thoughts of evening cups of coffee, in that small side street cafe flashed through his mind. The scent of coffee and cigarettes that constantly ghosted around his lips, urging him to chase the taste. The constant watchful gaze that peeked under the thick dark fringe. The tentative smiles he gave Akechi.

Akechi lifted the communication device to his lips, “Rendezvous at point C,” he ordered. There was a reply crackling out of the device that Akira didn’t make out. 

“Securing the shipment is good enough for tonight,” Akechi’s eyes flitted downwards and behind him, to meet Akira’s. His eyes were questioning, warring between belief and suspicion. The muscles in his body were coiled tight. 

Akechi was used to winning. 

“Mission accomplished.” 

* * *

Akira was dragged all the way to Leblanc, “I hope you don’t do this to all the bad guys you catch,” Akira raised the handcuff closer to his eyes as he spoke. They made their way to the empty attic. The room was cold from the open window.

“You have a shit lot of explaining to do,” Akechi said as he pulled up Akira’s shirt, despite arguments. They both hissed - Akechi at the ugly wound, and Akira at the rough movement. The laceration from the gunshot just above Akira’s left scapula was as long and thick as Akechi’s palm; nothing fatal, but it would need stitches. The intricate black inked tattoo, that started from his spine creeping along the top of his shoulder and then down the depth of skin Akechi has yet to see, was going to be permanently disfigured. 

“First aid kit?” He asked. 

Akira murmured, “Under the sink.” 

Akechi retrieved it. He poured peroxide on a wad of cotton and came closer. He glared as Akira inched back, “What? You're scared of a little sting but man enough to be smuggling?” He dabbed the cotton across the wound with as little care as possible, until Akira’s hand shot up to grip around his wrist. 

“Damn, there goes my senpai nurse fantasy,” he wheezed out softly.

The small wick of flame that has ignited between them, since their eyes first met in that dim student council room seemed to roar into life. Akechi grabbed Akira’s chin roughly, and pushed his mouth against his. The kiss was rough, all adrenaline and no experience. But Akira’s lips under his were soft and pliant, the soft sound of his exhale as Akechi moved away only drew him back to take, and take again. 

Akechi pushed him down on the bed. Akira winced at the impact on his wound, but he kept his eyes close, his mouth following the wicked dance of Akechi’s lips. His hand moved to shove Akechi’s jacket away, and dipped into the curve of his back. Akechi’s legs were bracketed around his hips, and there was a strong urge to roll his whole body upwards, to grind together until every part of skin touched. He moaned as Akechi mouthed his way to his neck, searing a dark red mark at the base of his throat before he pulled away. 

A sudden ring from Akira’s phone was like a splash of cold water, and Akechi spied the name ‘Iwai-san’ on the screen. No doubt a call relating to tonight's events. He only stared at Akira, as he declined the call and hid the phone under the pile of pillows behind them. His lips were still tingling with heat. But that was a wake up call Akechi needed. 

“We have to talk,” Akechi said, but the words Akechi was saying were as incomprehensible to Akira as the distance between their bodies. 

“Really? Now?” Akira managed to retort, hating the disappointment that coloured his voice. 

There was a satisfied look on Akechi’s face as he took in Akira’s bright, bruised lips. There was an undefined change between them that should have scared him. But instead, he felt that Those were stark against smooth pale skin, marked by him. His collarbones were already partly exposed, heaving in effort to catch his breath. Akechi climbed off the bed and helped Akira into a sitting position, looking as unperturbed as possible. His hair was still almost impeccable, and Akira wanted to run his hands in them. 

“Some words can’t wait,” he started. He lifted a finger to skim over the mark on Akira’s throat. “I’ve learned that the hard way.” His fingers traced the exposed collarbone, then up his throat, finally cupping Akira’s jaw. The other boy leaned into the touch and Akechi felt his breath catch. He started to lean back in again, answer the pull of breath and warmth, when Akira spoke. 

“I know about your father,” the words were whispered, rushed in the height of emotion that made Akira’s eyes bright. “I know that’s why you were there tonight. But you have the wrong lead.” 

The mere allusion to Shido made Akechi gnaw his teeth together in irritation. But the familiar flare of hate was muted this time around. Akechi supposed it was true when they said that infatuations poisoned the mind. 

“If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I can’t help you.” Akechi echoed the words Sae had said to him years ago. He took Akira’s hand in his. It was dry and rough with calluses. The weight in his palm felt right. 

“ _Trust me_.” 

There was no reason to do so, he could practically see Akira’s mind race. For all he knew, Akechi would turn him in to the police tomorrow. But right now, he was trapped in this warmth, and the promises in Akechi’s eyes sung him into compliance. 

Akira gripped his hands tight in answer. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for taking time to read and indulging my AU! This whole thing was basically borne out of wanting to write the last scene. I’m thinking of maybe writing a side B (Akiren version) of this, and then some. But the idea’s still a baby! 
> 
> There are a lot of loose threads in this story (practically all threads). One day when I have more time, hopefully I’ll get to flesh out something complete for them in this universe, and add more characters. But for now, I really enjoyed being able to create this short piece! Hope you enjoyed it too! I really love these two bois, and I really want a strong Akechi to love and pamper Akiren!!!

**Author's Note:**

> I’d love to hear what you guys think! Hopefully the Akira/Ren thing wasn’t too confusing. Hopefully, spicier things in the 2nd half!


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